


Femslash Feb 2

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Firefly, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Serenity (2005), Teen Wolf (TV), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Zombies, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 18,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of (hopefully) 28 works for Femslash February</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

**Author's Note:**

> These are all going to be done to different shuffled songs on my iPod. Chapter titles will be the pairings, so it'll be easy to slip through to the one's you like.

_You ask for walls, I’ll build them higher, we’ll lie in the shadows of them all_

_–_ February Stars, The Foo Fighters

Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

Pepper came around the side of the bed, letting her hair out of her pony tail and shaking it. She was half dressed in her suit – her blouse was open and her skirt discarded, leaving her in panties and garters as her fingers moved to unclasp her earrings.

Natasha was sprawled on the bed, and Pepper sat down beside her. She frowned to see the cuts over her eyes, the deepening shadows beneath them in purple and green from a flowering bruise. Natasha’s eyelids flickered, then opened, and Natasha smiled.

“Hey,” said Nat, pushing herself up, shaking curly long hair from her face.

“Hey yourself,” said Pepper. She stroked Natsha’s cheek. “I got the weekend off, like I promised. Took some doing.”

“Mm. Good,” said Natasha, rolling. She exposed the sheer black camisole she was wearing and Pepper smiled to see her, the curve of her breasts, the pertness of her nipples.

Pepper leaned down and kissed her, sucked on Natasha’s lower lip a moment and Natasha made the cutest sound of protest as Pepper pulled away and stood up to keep stripping.

“You’re so gorgeous,” said Natasha.

Pepper just smiled. “So I take it your last mission didn’t go so well,” she said, as she took off her jewellery.

“Went perfectly,” said Natasha, still watching. Pepper could see her in the reflection of the mirror. “Minus the bruises, of course.”

“Of course.” She finished undressing and pulled on a white silk camisole and matching panties. “JARVIS? Lights.”

They dimmed as she walked to the bed and crawled in alongside Natasha. She peeled back the covers, took a bottle of lotion – a homemade thing Bruce had created – and poured some in her hands. “Roll over,” she instructed.

Natasha obeyed and Pepper started to massage her. She ran her hands over her hard muscles, hiding so beguilingly underneath of her soft, smooth skin. Natasha didn’t speak of her missions, never did. Pepper found that this was the best way to work things. Don’t speak, just build up a protective nest. A quiet island built of walls, a safe spot.

Pepper’s hands glided lower, pulling her soft skin with the press of her fingers. She found the roundness of Natasha’s hips, concentrated on the tense muscles, and Natasha moaned. Pepper’s fingers glided along the lacy fabric of Natasha’s panties.

It was amazing how insecure Natasha could be, for the want of a normal life. She was so sure and confident, so wild and untameable, but when it came to domestics she was as insecure as anyone else, she just wasn’t going to show it, not for anything. So things like this, not acting, not pretending, not speaking, that helped her out.

“Roll over again,” she said, and Natasha did as she was told. The camisole had ridden up, exposing her completely.

There was trust in Natasha’s eyes as Pepper leaned in to kiss her. Pepper didn’t take that likely, that trust could be possible. She knew her lover could kill her in hundreds of different ways, but Natasha trusted her.

Pepper made love to her, with her tongue and her hands and her lips. She brought Natasha to a shuddering climax, kissed the desperate sounds from Natasha’s lips as she did it over and over and over, until her lover was trembling and slick with sweat, exhausted in a way that missions never brought her.

“Your turn,” said Natasha, rolling her over.

Pepper smiled and kissed Natasha again, turned on that Natasha could taste herself on Pepper’s tongue.

When they were done they lay in the darkness, a tangle of arms and legs around twisted sheets and forgotten clothes, an island in the darkness, a safe haven in the shadows.


	2. Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

_The Clouds hold, a storm over this road. You’re dreaming, or at least you’ve got your eyes closed._

_–_ Eyes Closed, The Narrative

Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

 

“Best Friends” had stopped being enough for Allison Argent a long time now. She watched as Lydia listened to music, her ear buds in and head bobbing up and down. The light caught her red hair perfectly, even giving a slight sheen to her long eyelashes. Allison wanted to kiss those closed eyes as she watched Lydia sway to the beat only she could hear.

Allison rolled on the grass to stare at the sky, so blue and so very wide. There was a break in the clouds, and it was like a blue eye was watching her. California wasn’t really home and it was, in too many broken and disturbing ways. She wished her dad hadn’t decided to come back to Beacon Hills sometimes because she was tired. Tired of the building storms, tired of the push and pull and ache over Scott that she still tasted sometimes and the confusion over Isaac.

She wished she could keep her cool in the way Lydia could. Lydia was cursed with her abilities and yet every day Lydia could move and act as she always had – calm, cool, collected. Sassy, free. The idea made Allison smile.

“You’re thinking too loud, I can’t hear my music,” said Lydia with a touch more volume than necessary.

Allison laughed to herself, because even with her eyes closed Lydia knew everything going on around her.

She rolled onto her stomach to look at her and a moment later Lydia’s eyes opened. “Yes?” Lydia asked, one eyebrow raised.

Allison smiled at her. “I envy you.”

“There’s a lot to envy. Anything in particular?”

“Oh, lots of things,” said Allison, laughing at the way that Lydia just didn’t _care._ She loved herself, sure, but she loved herself in a way that didn’t piss everyone off at the same time. Well… at least, it didn’t piss off Allison. “Right now it’s your ability to tell something’s on my mind. You’re psychic.”

“Allison, we’ve been through enough that if something _isn’t_ on our minds it means we’ve finally broken. And you’re too strong for that.”

Touched, Allison rolled until she was sitting cross legged looking down on her. Lydia was so beautiful it made Allison’s heart ache to watch her, and Lydia gave her that sideways smile that Allison loved so much. Allison, despite her carefully made barriers, reached out and brushed a strand from Lydia’s forehead. “Thank-you,” she replied.

Lydia’s hand reached up to catch Allison’s and Allison froze, watching her eyes. Neither of them moved, besides a bud falling from Lydia’s ear. Allison could hear some music playing, probably Fall Out Boy, but she wasn’t concentrating on that. It was the way Lydia was holding her hand, the way she could feel Lydia’s pulse from her fingertips against her palm.

Allison licked her lips.

Lydia’s eyes followed the motion, and her smile was completely gone. “Allison Argent,” she said.

“Yeah?” asked Allison, pulling her hand away, the spell broken, but she didn’t move it far. She lay it on the spread of Lydia’s hair, feeling its silky softness.

“If you don’t kiss me now I’m going to give you up as a hopeless case. My compliments will cease and I won’t know what to do with you.”

Allison smiled, she might have laughed, but the moment was far too serious. She leaned down and paused a moment, thinking about how silly and ‘Spider-Man’ this was, but she didn’t hesitate long. She pressed her lips against Lydia’s, eyes coming shut. She could smell cherry lip gloss as their lips slid together. Lydia’s hand came up and curled in Allison’s hair and their lips were parting. Lydia tasted so good, so sweet, as their tongues met and the kiss got deeper.

The strain on her neck was too much after a moment and she pulled away, met Lydia’s eyes and smiled shyly. She was surprised when Lydia returned the look. After all, she’d never known Lydia to be _shy._

“Did I say you were done?” asked Lydia, and Allison laughed, shifting so she was laying by her side.

“No, and neither did I.”


	3. Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

_Hold on to the world we all remember fighting for, there’s some strength left in us yet. Hold on to the world we all remember dying for, there’s some hope left in it yet._

– Arise, Flyleaf

Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

Shots fired, different from the crackling blue she remembered in her nightmares. These were green and turned the ground to molten slag when they struck. Natasha veered to the right to dodge another blast, but she was coming up on the edge of the building, followed by several of the aliens.

Aliens were never what she’d signed up for. She’d signed up for doing what she was best at – hunting people, spying, blending in. Interrogation. But somehow, again and again, she’d wound up as an Avenger and a fighter for an Earth she’d never fully believed in. After all, what kind of rate of return did the earth have?

Natasha skidded to a stop. Her Widows Bite crackled as she raised her fists and turned. The closest one jumped off its hovercraft and made a loud, keening sound as it rushed her with two handheld, cruel looking blades.

 _Shit._ She dodged the first swing neatly, took the second blow to her calf and kicked the creature as hard in the face as she could before performing a neat maneuver that ended with her discharging several thousand volts into the hollow in its neck.

Natasha turned to bandage her leg, do something, when there was another sound of yet another craft moving in on her. The roof exploded in rocks and hot shrapnel, and she raised her arms, backing away.

Her foot caught a rock, though, and she pivoted, finding herself looking over the side of the building.

_No._

There was no compensating, only falling. Only trusting that maybe, just maybe, her modified super soldier serum might be enough to let her survive the fall. In the half second since she hit open air she had herself mostly twisted, trying to assume any kind of landing position possible.

 _“UMPH!”_ the wind was knocked out of her a moment later as something collided with her. Hard arms were all around her, there was a high familiar humming. She opened her eyes. “Pepper?”

“I have you,” came the semi-metallic reply.

Rescue had her, was flying her amongst the chaos to somewhere safe. Natasha didn’t want safe, not while there was fighting to be done, but she had to admit her timing was perfect. “Nice catch.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

They touched down on a spot that was mostly clear. Pepper’s mask came up and she was smiling, looking relieved. Natasha’s heart thumped to see those blue eyes, free and clear of horror.

Natasha cupped the metal jaw around Pepper’s delicate one and leaned in, kissing her. “Thanks for the save,” she said, pulling away, and Pepper just smiled.

“Rescuing is what I do.”


	4. Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

_The silence isn’t so bad, ‘Till I look at my hands and feel sad, ‘cause the spaces between my fingers, are right where yours fit perfectly_

– Vanilla Twilight, Owl City

Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

The end is inevitable, no matter who you are or what you are doing, and if anyone knew that Lydia did. She saw the endings to too many things over and over and time without end. So when school ended and she was accepted into Harvard and Allison was heading south to Stanford with her father, they’d both sat together with their fingers laced and wondering what the hell was going to happen.

Of course, Lydia could have gone to Stanford, but she’d had her heart set on Harvard since she was six. She’d suggested maybe changing to Stanford, but Allison, despite the hope in her eyes, said that she should follow her dreams. That they could try the long distance thing.

Both of them knew, though, that long distance was another fancy way of saying ‘it’s over.’

Lydia just wasn’t sure what her dreams were anymore. Sometimes they were of school, winning awards and becoming a physicist. Mostly, though, they were of a doe-eyed girl who could be fierce and wild and loving and sweet. They were of a girl that made Lydia’s heart ache in the middle of the night when she imagined that apartment in Beacon Hills empty now, her surrogate family gone for good.

She was moving the next day, boxes were piled around her. The acceptance letter was still on her bedside table and was like a white beacon in the fading light.

Lydia raised her hand and stared at it. She imagined the feeling of Allison’s soft hands in her own, the way they held each other and laughed and kissed and the way Allison’s lower lip would tremble when they had sex and the way her eyelashes fluttered.

Her hand dropped to her side. She turned to look at her acceptance letter.

Harvard. The culmination of all her hard work.

Instead of reading it once again for reassurance, she picked up her phone and wrote a text message.

 _You told me to follow my dreams. You’re my dream now._ – LM

She didn’t wait for a reply as Lydia rolled to her feet, and neatly swept her acceptance letter off of the bedside table and into the garbage. Feeling a weight off her chest, she went looking for her Stanford acceptance letter, hoping she hadn’t missed the deadline completely.


	5. Jane Foster/Darcy Lewis

_I saw the constellations reveal themselves one star at a time_

– Bobcaygeon, The Tragically Hip

Jane Foster/Darcy Lewis

The beater she drove was making a clunking sound as she parked in front of the little diner. She couldn’t believe one could exist that far out without a gas station supporting it, but there it was anyway. It had no name, just a sign over the cliché cigar tube shape that had ‘DINER’ in orangey-red neon lighting.

Jane got out of her car, hip-checked the door, and disappeared a moment in her back seat to grab her notes to review over whatever she got to eat. So far Jane was thinking pancakes or waffles, as she made her way through the cool desert evening air and let herself into the small joint.

The cliché’s continued. You could see the kitchen behind the red counter that split the small restaurant down the middle, and booths edged the opposite side. Each table had a small placard talking about their specials and had he usual fixings on it. Jane chose a booth when no one greeted her and sank down onto the fire engine red upholstery.

First she opened her notebook, a black and beaten old thing that held everything she had on tracking unusual aurora’s, and next her mini star charts scribbled over and nearly black with calculations, and began to swing her feet, since she was a touch too short with the high seats.

“That looks complicated,” said a female voice, and Jane looked over to see a very pretty girl with full lips and deep brown eyes. In keeping with the diner theme, she was wearing a uniform Jane thought hadn’t existed since the 50’s. She was starting to like this place more and more, and was feeling pretty grateful it was only an hour out of Puente Antiguo. She might have to show up again.

“It… is in fact,” said Jane, smiling, closing one of her notebooks. Despite the fact that this person probably wouldn’t know anything about it, she felt shy.

“So, star stuff, then. Hey I know that one,” the girl, whose nameplate read ‘Darcy,’ reached out and tapped a star chart. “Ursa, right?”

“Ursa Major, actually. And that’s Ursa Minor,” said Jane, pointing at a near identical, smaller formation nearby it.

“Cool,” said Darcy. “So what can I get you?”

“The strongest cup of coffee you have,” said Jane, smiling. “And a menu.”

“Right,” said Darcy. “One cup of high test coming up. And our menu is up there,” she pointed at a large board over the main counter that had the standard diner fair. “I’ll be back with that coffee and you can tell me more about stars and stuff. Seems like you know a few things.”

“A few things, yeah,” said Jane, a touch meekly.

Darcy walked away. Jane found herself envious of her amazing figure and chewed her lip, feeling almost androgynous in comparison. She found pancakes on the menu and decided on those, opening her book and waiting for Darcy to get back with her coffee. She wasn’t sure what ‘high test’ meant but she hoped it meant it was a cousin to espresso. She still had at least an hour’s drive, then she had to settle into her research station.

Darcy came back with the coffee, and when Jane ordered the short stack instead of taking a ticket to the back she merely turned and hollered at the cook before sliding into the booth across from Jane. Darcy drummed her fingers for a moment. “So, whatcha working on? You a rocket scientist?”

Jane took a sip of her coffee after adding two cream and two sugar, and nearly choked. _Strong._ Darcy seemed amused by this.

“I’m an astrophysicist, actually,” said Jane, setting down her cup on the only free spot on the table.

“Cool! So you’re super smart. What’s with all the charts, then? Tracking something?” Darcy picked one of them up.

“Yes, aurora’s in the night sky that have been appearing.”

“Aliens,” said Darcy, setting it back down. “I mean, this is New Mexico. We’re like Nevada – aliens love us.”

Jane stared at her a moment, and Darcy laughed. “Oh gosh, lighten up. Do you need some whiskey for your coffee? That’s actually really cool, that you’re tracking them. I thought auroras don’t show up this far south.”

“They don’t, that’s the point,” said Jane. “I’m trying to figure out why.”

Darcy smirked. “Aliens.”

This time Jane cracked a smile and took another sip of coffee, which wasn’t as bad as the first. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t mind Darcy interrupting her. It could be the smile, the amusement in her eyes. Maybe it was more superficial, like the way her hair was so long and thick. She wasn’t sure. Jane just didn’t want her to leave.

She explained her work as best she could and learned more about Darcy. She was taking a break from school – political sciences – and her mom worked dayshift and got her a job for nights. Darcy brought her pancakes and a slice of pie for herself, and the two of them kept talking until the notes were forgotten and they were both laughing. Jane found herself enjoying Darcy’s strange stories about college and found herself forgetting the stress of her research grant and how she had to have some real data soon and started to feel more relaxed than she had in a long, long time.

“Well… how many credits do you need?” she asked, finishing her last bite of pancakes.

“Two,” said Darcy. “I’ll go back and finish next year maybe.”

Jane stared at her notes a minute. “You know, I have room in my grant for an applicant… I just couldn’t fill it. Would you be interested?”

“Doesn’t it have to be from the same school?” asked Darcy, skeptically.

“I’ll work around it,” she said, waving her hand. “After all, a local – or at least, a semi-local – would be very useful.”

“And the fact I know more about Fall Out Boy than stars…?” asked Darcy.

Jane just smiled and shrugged. “I’ll get you up to speed.”

Darcy grinned. “Alright then, I like it! If you can hook me up I’m so there.”

Jane nodded, pleased. She wanted to have this girl around with her. Wanted to get to know Darcy, to brush her hair, to – _Stop it, Jane._ She glanced out the window and her eyebrows shot up. “Hey! HEY LOOK!” she hopped up and grabbed Darcy’s hand. “C’mon!”

“Hey – what?”

The bell over the door ringed as they both ran out into the night. Jane’s jaw dropped when she saw the subtle green aura glittering above them and she pulled out her notebook, scribbling furiously. “I need to get my GPS out, find out exact coordinates. Oh, I wish I had my instruments here, I-“

“Hey,” said Darcy, nudging her, making Jane ruin a letter. “So you can’t measure _this_ one. Might as well enjoy it with me.”

Jane stopped and looked up. There were hints of blue, now. She swallowed and met Darcy’s eyes, which were glittering in the white lights ringing the tiny parking lot. She was still holding Darcy’s hand, she noticed, and smiled back, stepping to the edge of the lights to put them behind themselves.

“That’s the spirit,” said Darcy, pulling Jane closer as they both looked up at the aurora.

Her hand itched to write, but she wasn’t about to let Darcy go for anything.


	6. Melinda May/Natasha Romanoff

_Better watch your step, she’s a diamond on a landmine_

– Diamond on a Landmine, Billy Talent

Melinda May/Natasha Romanoff

Natasha curled her fingers into Melinda’s long, soft hair as she kissed her. She wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this. This was supposed to be work, an interrogation of a dangerous Russian general. But here she was, enjoying the kiss more than she was enjoying the way she’d be drawing the words from his lips soon enough.

General Alistratov sat back on the silk sheets, stripped to his underthings and watching the show. He’d ‘picked them up’ a few hours ago at the party, two seemingly unsuspecting women. Natasha had assumed the name of Nadezhda Zhukov, Melinda the name of Yuko Himura. The name sounded unusual falling from Melinda’s lips over and over against her own.

“Ah, Yuko,” she breathed, as the two of them fell against the sheets. Their eyes met and Melinda smiled. Only Natasha knew that smile, what it meant – that it was both for her, and to signal a success.

“приятный,” said Alistratov, and Natasha turned to smile at him as Melinda’s lips started to press against her throat, one hand  drawing up between her legs.

Melinda had been her part time handler when Natasha had first joined SHIELD and was learning the ropes. Love was for children, but attraction was not and there was something about Melinda that Natasha craved in ways she couldn’t explain.

Melinda was fire and energy and strength, she was power and righteousness in a way that Natasha could never hold. Like Clint, Natasha owed her a debt that was sometimes satisfied in moments like these – with pressing lips and pulling hair, the taste of lip gloss and the martini’s they’d both been drinking. Melinda was everything Natasha wished she could be in a woman, without the darkness clouding her heart and the blood dripping from her past.

“да,” she breathed, and closed her eyes.

Yes, she wasn’t supposed to enjoy work, not like this, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her.


	7. Jane Foster/Sif

_If you're in the closet with a broom_ _, why don't you sweep around the room? Make little piles of all the things you don't understand_

– Skin and Bones, Mirah

Jane Foster/Sif

Jane was caught up in far too many conflicts for earth, she was finding. Too many for her to deal with comfortably, anyway. And thanks to her new contracts with SHIELD, it was happening even more often than she might have liked, although it did give her access to the latest StarkTech.

This time however was nice. She was visiting the Helicarrier for debriefing when she ran into someone she might not call a friend, but liked nonetheless.

The Lady Sif had protected her when she’d been to Asgard, and Jane knew that left her indebted. It seemed the dark, almost jealous looks from before had been replaced with camadarie and when Sif had asked her to go to the dining hall together Jane was happy to show her around and how it worked.

“This food is not fit for the likes of warriors and scientists such as yourself,” said Sif, poking at the macaroni and cheese they’d been serving along with Salisbury steak and peas.

Jane smirked. The SHIELD commissary wasn’t unlike what she’d suffered through in University. “I know what you mean,” she said, taking a bite of her own pasta.

“And the portions! So small! I could eat three, four times this much! My friend Volstagg several entire trays.”

Jane giggled, covering her mouth.

“What?” asked Sif, tilting her head. “What I said was no joke.”

“No, no I know… it’s just here, on earth, normally when you hear a woman complaining about portions she’s complaining about eating too much.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh… well, a lot of women on earth have self-image problems. It’s a problem with our media, that women have to look a certain way to be found attractive.”

Sif’s eyebrows raised straight into her hairline. “And who tells these women how to look? Men, I’d wager! What business do they have to tell you women how you must look! Lady Jane, should any man tell you how you must dress or weigh, I command you to slay him as an example. And if you won’t, hail me to Heimdall and I will do it for you.”

Sif finished her food. “A passable snack. I’ve had worse. Shall we walk? I’d see of your lab.”

Jane led the way to the lab she used when she was there. It was shared with Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, so there were a few odds and ends she was afraid to touch, even though Jane had fair ideas what they were for. She showed Sif her work, her mathematics on the bifrost.

Sif, in turn, sat and told her of Asgard, and of her purpose coming to earth in Thor’s stead. She told Jane a few interesting stories, the happenings of her kingdom and how they were rising back up from the ashes of what Maliketh had visited upon them.

“We are strong,” said Sif. “As are Midgardians, who recover from similar troubles.”

“Thanks,” said Jane.

Sif was sitting next to her and they were staring out at the wide blue sky. Jane was smiling, feeling light and floaty and better than she had in a long time. She was recovering from the panic of loving Thor – or at least getting used to her life changing situations – and was feeling more at ease talking to Sif than she felt even towards Darcy or the ‘Science Bros.’

“You are very beautiful, Lady Jane.”

Jane flushed deep red. “Uh, thanks. You too – you’re gorgeous.”

Sif looked confused a moment. “Lady Jane, why did you turn down my Lord Thor?”

Jane shifted nervously. Sif had no allegiance to her the way she had to Thor. It was an uncomfortable question. “Ah, well… the distance wasn’t working for me. Even with a wormhole to travel through.”

“Do you mean the bifrost?”

Jane nodded.

“Well, Thor does have many duties to his world. I understand how it could be hard for him to be with you, especially when you are, and pardon my saying, so young and age so quickly.”

Jane nodded, feeling even more uncomfortable. “Yeah, that too.”

Sif didn’t say anything a moment. “I thought perhaps you and he are ill-suited. Of course, you did love him before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I meant only that perhaps you preferred the touch of a maiden to the rough handling of a man. I myself have taken many lovers in my time and find myself taking pleasure in the touch of the fairer sex than of men.”

Jane practically choked on her next breath of air and started to cough. Sif waited for her to finish with an amused look on her face, like this had been her intention all along. “What – I thought you love Thor.”

“Verily, I do. He is my Lord and he has saved me from much and done so much for me. I love him with all my heart. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t also seek pleasure in other’s company much the same as he might despite love.”

“Well, he is the god of fertility,” muttered Jane.

Sif tilted her head. “Do the humans call him so?”

Jane nodded.

Sif tilted her head back and laughed. “I shall have great fun informing him of thus when I return. But that doesn’t answer my question, Lady Jane. Do you prefer the touch of a maiden?”

Jane was blushing again, squirming. She saw no reason to lie and say _no,_ but also no reason to admit to it and was thus stuck. “W-why do you want to know?”

“Because. I find you very brave and very attractive, and wish to kiss you or perhaps be your lover. Nothing like what you had with my Lord Thor, of course, but this is what I wish.”

Jane turned to look at Sif, trying to control her embarrassment. Sif was much more straight forward than Thor, at least in this. “Wouldn’t he be mind?” She was aware she still hadn’t given Sif a yes or no, but she was curious.

“Perhaps a little, but he is honourable unlike the ‘media’ of your world, and respects the wishes and desires of a woman. You did not answer my question yet, and I grow impatient. Lady Jane, might I kiss you?”

Jane kicked her feet. There were probably ten cameras on them at the moment at all sorts of angles. “I guess to answer your question, Thor and I were not, um, incompatible that way. Although it doesn’t mean I don’t like women. As for the second I’m… not sure?”

Sif tilted her head, like she was questioning Jane’s sanity there. “How can you not be sure whether or not you wish to accept my advance?”

“I mean, I’m kind of on the fence – err, undecided.”

Sif nodded. “Perhaps the only way to know if you wish to kiss me is to kiss me, and then we can decide where to go from there. Much like your experiments you were telling me of.”

 _Seduce me with science, why don’t you?_ Thought Jane, and she laughed. Right now she could imagine Tony Stark urging her on.

“Very well,” said Jane after a moment. She looked up at Sif seriously. “Kiss me, and I’ll let you know if I wish to accept your advance.”

“Might I make it a good kiss?”

“You better,” said Jane.

Sif smiled with the challenge and cupped Jane’s face. Her hands weren’t soft, yet weren’t as battle hardened as Thor’s. Sif stroked her thumb along Jane’s jaw, then over her lip, and leaned in. The kiss started soft and sweet, a gentle press of the lips. As it grew deeper Jane’s eyes closed all the way and Sif’s hands slipped around to cup the back of her head. Their tongue’s met and Jane gasped a little to feel the bolt of arousal it brought her, and Sif chuckled, deepening the kiss further.

When she’d finally pulled away Jane was out of breath and wanting more. There was something electrifying in the way Sif kissed and touched that made Jane want to get to know Sif very intimately indeed.

“If you… have time,” said Jane, “might you come with me to my home in England? I’d like to, um, show you some things.”

Sif laughed and kissed the top of Jane’s head. “But was it a good kiss? Do you accept?”

“Oh, yes, I definitely accept.”

“Good,” said Sif, lifting Jane into her arms and twirling her lightly. “My heart sings with this admission. We’ll leave as soon as we can! This floating fortress is ill suited to our needs.”

“You’re telling me,” said Jane, looking up at the camera and wondering if whoever was undoubtedly watching had a good show.


	8. Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

_You’re the conquered scars, the divided hearts. You are the ghost of utopia_

_–_ Ghost of Utopia, IAMX

Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

_This isn’t real._

It didn’t matter how many times she tried to remind herself of it. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t focus on the trembling pictures and images, how they’d shutter like bad film. Everything _felt_ real and therefore it was real. If real was defined by what you felt, then real was projected by your subconscious, and she hated that – knowing she was trapped.

Allison let out a slow, steady breath, and took a step. The picture held. She took another. She was at her old house. She was where her mother died, staring at the bed. She took another step. For a split second her mother was there with yellow eyes.

Allison turned to see a shadow behind her shoulder but it was gone. _I’m being followed,_ she thought, but could do nothing about it.

The picture shuddered, it was Kate now with yellow eyes and dripping scars across her neck.

She closed her eyes and tried to picture Isaac. He was her anchor, the thing that could draw her back, but she couldn’t draw him to mind.

She opened her eyes again and now Kate was standing with her mother, they were both watching her with blood on their claws and ready to strike. Allison’s legs became her own once more, for however long that would last, and she turned and fled, slammed the door shut, took a chair from the hall, barricaded it.

 _You’re so weak,_ something whispered in her ear, feeling like fingers through her hair.

She backed up, refusing to scream for her dad, for anyone, and ran for her bow and arrows away in the garage. She made it as far as the kitchen before her legs were locked once more. The picture flickered. She could hear the thumping and banging of two werewolf corpses coming for her.

 _God,_ she clenched her jaw, squeezed her eyes shut.

 _Isaac, Isaac, Isaac,_ she thought, but it was no good. There was no respite.

She let out her breath, thought back to who _should_ have been her anchor.

_Lydia._

The picture changed. She felt it like a taste in the air, the pressure, the loss of sound. Everything was still and quiet. She was in a bedroom and knew that without opening her eyes. There were two soft hands on her now naked shoulders, a body pressing into hers. Lips, full ones, on the back of her neck. Two pert nipples pressed into her skin. Allison let out a sigh, melted into those arms.

Hands roamed lower, touching her belly, her pubic hair. She was being drawn back.

“I’m here, Allison,” whispered Lydia, “you can open your eyes now.”

She did, finding her own bedroom. _But is it real?_

“Am I here?” she asked, shivering. She was naked, standing in the exact center, staring at the door. She wet her lips, a little nervously.

“Only you can decide that baby,” was Lydia’s reply.

She was being drawn back to the bed now. They were laying down on the soft sheets, and hair brushed Allison’s face. Lydia’s answering smile was warm, comforting.

Their lips met. The room was a safe haven amongst the madness and whether it was real or not didn’t matter. Allison felt warmth in her soul as they kissed, as Lydia’s hands roamed her body, soothing her trembling muscles, chasing away fear.


	9. Jessica Drew/Kate Bishop

_At the corner of your lips, as the orbit of your hips, eclipse, you elevate my soul_

– Elevation, U2

Jessica Drew/Kate Bishop

Jessica supposed _wrong_ was a very major and important word here, but when had _right_ ever been a part of her life? She had to have some kind of subconscious problem concerning the word Hawkeye, no matter who belonged to it. She couldn’t get away, couldn’t stop. She just wished she knew why.

This time, though, Hawkeye belonged to a size 2 purple jumpsuit and a pair of shiny aviators.

_“I ought to hate you,” said Kate, seriously, arms folded across her breasts. “I mean, bros before derogatory references.”_

_Jessica shook her head, trying not to touch the exposed bit of skin on her hip and entirely failing. “He’s the one who hurt me.”_

_“Exactly why I don’t hate you, oddly enough. But I don’t hate him either so get that through your head before I kiss you.”_

That was weeks ago, before Jessica submitted to someone so much younger than her that seemed so much more in control. She had a commanding presence that Clint never had, something older and wiser that hid behind the young exterior and thinly veiled sarcasm.

But maybe _submit_ wasn’t the right word, as Jessica took control that night in her flat. She’d been lying about her relationship to everyone the same as Kate had. Not even Carol knew her secret, that she was sleeping with an eighteen year old girl who made her feel her age and brought something out in her that had never had a chance to grow, thanks to Hydra.

There was something perfect about the two of them. Hot kisses and touches and neediness mixed with nights listening to Fall Out Boy and painting their nails. Things she didn’t have as a teenager she secretly craved, and maybe it was wrong to sometimes live vicariously through Kate but she couldn’t stop. Neither could Kate, even after Clint found out about the relationship.

She pulled Kate’s panties off with her teeth, loving the way Kate’s fingers twisted in Jessica’s hair. They’d gotten past the age, they’d gotten past Clint, past everything, and now there was only them and the moment and the pleasure.

Jessica brought Kate to a shuddering climax, licking at her, pushing two fingers inside of her to feel the way Kate convulsed. Kate pulled her up, kissed her and tasted herself on Jessica’s lips before rolling her over and fishing on Jessica’s nightstand.

“I need you to fuck me,” Kate informed her, always delicate.

“I need you to eat me out,” said Jessica, taking the purple feeldoe away from Kate anyway.

“After you fuck me. C’mon. I’ll fuck you after too.” Her voice took on a pleading edge that only teenagers seemed to be able to achieve and it made Jessica smile, spread her legs, and slip the toy inside of her as she wiggled up higher on the bed to lean against the padded headboard.

Kate made a happy sound as she climbed on top, and Jessica moaned as the feeldoe moved inside of her.

There was a lot of bargaining, a lot of push and pull between them, but it didn’t stop anything. Jessica watched as Kate’s head fell back, the way her breasts bounced, her dark hair falling in a cascade down her back. Jessica thrust her hips up to meet her and Kate moaned. It was perfect. She was perfect, and when Kate climaxed the second time Jessica rolled them both over, refused to stop and fucked her through her orgasm until Kate’s purple nails were digging into Jessica’s shoulders and she was really moaning, crying out into the darkness.

Jessica’s lips were on Kate’s neck and she squeezed her eyes shut as she came, trying not to think about the word _right_ mixed with the word _love_ and how it might yet apply.


	10. Jennifer Walters/Carol Danvers

_You electrify my life, let’s conspire to ignite_

– Starlight, Muse

Jennifer Walters/Carol Danvers

“I’m gonna win this honey, you know that, right?” asked Jenny, grinning at Carol, who was across the table from her.

“No you aren’t. Super alien powers, remember?” Carol wiggled her fingers.

“Gamma irradiated blood, remember?” Jenny clasped her hand.

“Well one thing’s for certain, we’re breaking the table.”

Jenny seemed pleased by that and tossed her green hair over her shoulder. “Just something else for Stark to pay for. On three? One…”

“Two…”

“Three!” they shouted in unison.

Carol flexed, but it was like pushing on a solid steel beam. It was giving, but so slowly Carol was sweating. Jenny, of course, was grinning.

“Having a little trouble there, Danvers?” she asked.

“No, just waiting for you,” she said, trying to stay cocky.

Jenny flexed. Carol’s hand slipped back hard. _Ow._

“Oh my god, Jenny,” she said, trying to force back but she knew already, as the table cracked beneath them, that this was already done.

“Give up?” asked Jenny.

“Not on your life,” said Carol.

Jenny flexed once more, the table creaked and with a sound like a gunshot Carol’s fist was slammed clean through the wood as the entire table shuddered and collapsed.

Carol rubbed her sore arm, looking at the remains of the table, and she started to laugh along with Jenny. Stark was going to be a little pissed about breaking the table, but right now she could hardly care as the two of them fell against each other with weak giggles.

“Okay, okay, I take it all back,” said Carol, turning to look up at Jenny. “You are the mightiest.”

“So long as you know it, honey,” said Jenny, pinching Carol’s ass.

Carol laughed and leaned into her arms and Jenny hugged her close. Carol was tall, but Jenny was a full foot taller and had no trouble setting her head on top of Carol’s head. They stood there like that for a little while, just breathing and smiling and feeling like two naughty kids who broke an ashtray instead of an expensive wooden table. It was nice to feel this way, to close her eyes and be held by someone. She didn’t believe in feeling weaker, but sometimes it was nice to feel smaller.

She looked up at Jenny, who looked back with emerald eyes that were still full of mischief, probably imagining what Stark was going to do when he found out about his poor table. The idea made Carol smile too, but she was mostly starting to imagine something else.

She reached up and touched Jenny’s soft green hair. While she should have been all hard muscles and anger like her cousin’s alter ego, she could be soft and pliant as well and something about that had Carol falling for her, harder and harder every day.

Jenny leaned down and kissed her. It had taken some getting used to, but she loved it now – the feeling of Jenny’s full green lips, the flutters of her tongue, the gentleness of her hands that could also destroy.

“Race you to the bedroom,” she murmured, when Jenny finally pulled away.

“You always win – you fly,” said Jenny.

“Guess that makes us even.”

Jenny grinned. “Guess that does, honey,” she said, and scooped Carol into her arms.


	11. Inara Serra/Kaylee Frye

_She reads a book from across the street, waiting for someone that she’ll never meet. Talk over coffee for an hour or two, she wonders why I’m always in a good mood_

– Surrender, Billy Talent

Inara Serra/Kaylee Frye

“One green tea latte comin’ up!” said Kaylee, smiling at the lovely looking woman on the other side of the counter. “How are you, Inara?”

“I’m lovely, thank-you Kaylee,” said Inara.

Inara Serra owned a business near her, a fancy spa that catered to high end clients like CEO’s, and Kaylee Frye might have more than a small crush on her. She’d been coming in for morning and evening skinny latte’s ever since she’d opened up shop across the street, and she was so fascinating that Kaylee always found an excuse to talk to her when she could. Inara had travelled the world, she had the best stories that made Kaylee wish she could up and fly away from her silly job here, and her part-time job as a mechanic with her family.

“And how are you?” Inara leaned forward, looking interested. Kaylee caught herself looking a touch too long at those beautiful red lips and bit her own a moment, turning back to the steamer.

“I’m okay. Burnt my hand workin’ on an alternator. Shoulda let it cool down a bit, but I wasn’t thinkin’,” said Kaylee. She held up her hand for Inara to see the bandage.

Inara tisked, taking her hand gently. Kaylee froze from the contact, eyes wide as Inara’s slender fingers touched her own. _Maybe more than just a little crush, Kaylee,_ she thought, and swallowed hard.

“Be more careful, okay?” said Inara, and Kaylee found herself nodding somewhat dumbly as she took her hand back and returned to the steamer.

“I will,” she said, still blushing. Inara looked amused by it. “I’ll bring you your drink in a moment, Inara. Why don’t you sit down and get comfy?”

Inara nodded her head in a sort of bow, a beautiful gesture that Kaylee envied. She had no idea how Inara could move so _gracefully_ and be so poised, have all her curls in perfect order when Kaylee’s own hair was always a mess. Not to mention how sharp Inara dressed, when Kaylee was usually in her work clothes from the shop and wearing her green apron with the fuzzy teddy bear on it.

When the drink was done Kaylee left the counter. The place was going to close in fifteen minutes and there were no other customers besides Inara who was reading a book by the gas fireplace and looking very comfortable in the deep leather couch.

“Stay and talk?” asked Inara, after Kaylee handed her the drink.

Kaylee glanced at the door, the time, and the unwashed counter, then decided it didn’t matter – fifteen minutes more over time wasn’t going to make a difference. So she sat down with Inara and put up her feet on the coffee table and Inara smiled at her and sipped her latte and looked so pretty Kaylee was sure she could cry from it.

When closing time hit and Kaylee turned off the sign Inara got up to leave, but Kaylee stood in front of the door. “Hey… stay a bit, would you? It’d be nice to have someone to talk to while I’m closin’ up.” She smiled cheerfully even though she was worried Inara would leave and it might be days before they saw each other again, even though it would probably just be tomorrow.

Inara returned the smile and sat back down. She sipped her latte again. “You’re always so cheerful, Kaylee,” said Inara. “Isn’t it hard working two jobs?”

“Nope!” said Kaylee. “I like ‘em. My sister owns this place, my dad owns the engine shop. I’m happy working for them both and they keep me comfortable.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said.

Kaylee finished cleaning up, hung up her apron on its peg. She turned off the lights and let both of them out, locked the door. It was raining and Inara used her umbrella to cover them both. Kaylee was blushing and Inara just smiled at her as they walked and spoke. Kaylee always felt so dumb and tongue tied next to her but somehow it always worked between them.

“This is me,” said Kaylee at the bus stop. She smiled, her heart ached.

Inara checked her watch, glanced at the sign. It would be another eight minutes before the next bus arrived.

“I’ll wait with you, dear.”

“That’s real sweet, but I don’t want you to be late,” protested Kaylee. “I’m fine, I’m a big girl. I can stand under that awning there and I’ll keep dry.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She wasn’t, she wanted to be close to Inara as possible, but this was what most people would do… right?

Inara nodded. “Alright then, but only on two conditions. One is that I am permitted to take you to dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “And yes, I do mean a date.”

 _Is that a date-date?_ She wanted to ask, but she just went wide eyed, red faced, and nodded, very embarrassed. “Um, okay,” she said. “And the second?”

“That I’m allowed to kiss you, just once, good night.”

Kaylee just nodded and Inara leaned in. She smelled like spices and some kind of berry or fruit smell that Kaylee couldn’t place, but it was delicious nonetheless. Inara kissed sweetly and tenderly, and when she pulled away Kaylee’s knees went weak and something took her over then, something that made her reach up and cup Inara’s face in her work roughed hands and kiss her even harder.

Inara was laughing when she pulled away, and pressed a quick and soft kiss to Kaylee’s head.

Kaylee blushed, looked around, but no one was there.

“Why me?” she asked.

Inara just smiled. “When I pick a woman they’re usually exceptional and wonderful in some way,” she said, “and I’m finding you keep surprising me and making me smile regardless of what I expect.”

Kaylee blushed even harder and rubbed the back of her head. “Awe, gee, thanks,” she said. “Y-you too, Miss Inara.”

“None of that ‘miss,” said Inara, who tutted gently. “Have a safe trip home.”

“You too, Inara,” said Kaylee, backing up to stand beneath the awning. There was a splash as the bus pulled up, Inara winked, and Kaylee just ducked her head again as she climbed the steps and out of the rainy night.


	12. Jessica Drew/Kate Bishop

_Music’s on, I’m waking up, we fight the fire, then we burn it up_

_–_ Burn, Ellie Goulding

Jessica Drew/Kate Bishop

She held onto the hand like it was a lifeline through the crowd. Kate was like a knife through the dance floor, cutting her way through. It had been awhile since Jessica had found herself in any kind of club, but Kate had decided to convince her and Jess had a hard time saying no to Kate. While she and Clint were so alike they were also so different, in all the ways that made Jess feel secure for once.

The lights pulsated green then blue then red, people with glow sticks moved and danced and tossed their hair, but Jess only had eyes for the back of Kate’s skimpy purple dress. She looked lovely, and when Kate twirled and stepped into her arms Jessica held her, smiled at her. Kate just smirked.

“Eyes on me!” called Kate through the music.

Jessica smiled. Maybe it had been awhile since she’d been in a club but she hadn’t forgotten this and as the music started to pick up she pulled Kate in close.

Bodies were packed in all around, men and women, some drunk some not. There was a scent of so many people all around, the tang of alcohol in the air from a spilled drink somewhere. She also could smell Kate’s perfume, dragging her in like a leash about her neck. The beat was fast, the air was hot, and Jessica started to move her hips.

Everything was so warm. Fleeting touches of knees and hands and breasts as they turned together, wiggled and grinded on each other then pulled away. Their dancing was fast and breathtaking, the lights were pulsing, and Kate looked stunning.

She didn’t care that they were out in the middle of an average sort of bar – a place where they couldn’t kiss with impunity. But Kate’s face was inches away and her eyes were wide and brown and beautiful and captured Jessica’s gaze. She reached out and stroked her silky hair, wanted to lean in and kiss her and nibble those perfect lips. She was suddenly glad they’d agreed to this.

Kate, though, grabbed Jessica’s face and kissed her. Jessica tasted vanilla and moaned, hand tight on Kate’s hand, and when she pulled away she was punch drunk.

The music changed and went slow, the lights turned into a thousand dazzling pinpricks roaving over everything, shifting on Kate’s skin looking like little white freckles, and Jessica fell in love with that face all over again.

It was Jessica’s turn to lead them through the crowd, and they twirled on the ramp, ignoring the people they bumped into. Their purses were jumbled, Jessica felt her dress riding up, and then they were behind the screen near the VIP section. It was dark and under populated, which suited her just fine.

The taste of vanilla was on her lips again and Jessica pressed Kate against the wall.

“So one of my better ideas,” said Kate.

“Don’t get cocky,” said Jessica, leaning in for another needy kiss.

“Too late,” was the reply, just before their lips met and they let the music take them.


	13. Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

_Make me your animal, make me your freak and I will pack them in_

– Haven’t Slept in Years, Matthew Good Band

Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

Collapse. Everything was falling, crumbling, everything was lost. Natasha had a tight grip on the glock, her teeth were bared in a snarl, as she raised and fired again and again. Blood flew and splattered, faces forever in an ‘o’ of surprise.

“Natasha!”

She ignored the cry for help because she already knew. Fires were burning and she had to protect the one good thing in her life, her _kotenok._ Despite swearing she’d never make the mistake of letting someone so deep into her heart again she had and she would be damned if she lost them again.

She swung and fired at another intruder, watched the blood fly, and dropped the clip from her gun with a click of her fingers. She found a new round on her belt and slammed it home. Natasha was screaming in Russian as the Red Room came for her, closing in tighter and tighter. _There were so many._

She shrank down to the trembling person behind her, turning, eyes flickering over each enemy as she drew her other gun and began to fire shot after shot, refusing to be taken, refusing to lose the one good thing she ever held onto. She was an animal let off the leash, a wild thing who would stop at nothing to save what little she had.

 _“Natasha!_ ”Pepper was shaking her shoulders now.

“Pepper, stop!” she turned, and as she turned she rolled in bed and her eyes came open to look at Pepper’s frightened face.

They stared at each other a long moment, then Pepper let out a sigh of relief, her shoulder’s sagging and head falling back. There were tears in her eyes, a sight which cut Natasha too deep. She sat up, afraid to touch her, to cause more pain, but she had to wipe those tears away.

“I’m awake,” she said finally, and Pepper just nodded, brushing hair back from her face.

“You were in so deep,” she said.

“I thought you were in danger,” said Natasha, drawling her legs up beneath her. Once she was sure it was safe she reached out and stroked Pepper’s cheeks, rubbed away the tears with her thumbs. Pepper leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.

Pepper held her breath a moment. “It reminded me of Tony,” she admitted.

Natasha sighed. “Well, we’ve both got a lot of baggage. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Please,” said Pepper, and she chuckled. “At least this time a giant metal suit didn’t come to rip me out of bed.”

Natasha leaned into Pepper’s arms and together they both lay in the bed, stroking each other and kissing, supporting. Eventually the kisses got deeper and Pepper rolled Natasha over, kissing down between her breasts, between her legs.

Natasha wasn’t at first sure she could, but Pepper was gentle and brought pleasure with her tongue and hands that had her arching and twisting, mixing words of English with Russian. She came to a shuddering climax with Pepper’s name on her lips, hands twisted in Pepper’s long hair.

When Pepper finally kissed her way back up Natasha could taste herself on Pepper’s lips and they curled together and closed their eyes.

“How do you feel?” asked Pepper.

“Good. Tired,” she admitted. “Give me a moment.”

“That was all for you, honey,” said Pepper. “I can wait until morning.” She stroked Natasha’s hair, bounced a curl between her fingertips. “Did you want to talk about your dream?”

Natasha shook her head. “Not overly. I can hardly remember it now,” she lied.

Pepper nodded. “You seemed very upset.”

“I was in defense mode,” said Natasha, as she drew Pepper into her body, reached down between her legs. “I was protecting someone precious to me.”

Pepper made a soft sound, and Natasha closed her eyes and kissed her, trying to blot out the sounds of the dream with Pepper’s moans, to forget the animal she’d turned into and would turn into for the feelings that she had for the woman in her arms. Love might be for children, but like this, with her, Natasha sometimes felt like a child.


	14. Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanoff

_Light a way for me to walk on, from the ashes to the sky. Burn the thorns so I can hold on._

– Minor Heaven, Tarja Turunen

Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanoff

She was almost ethereal in her beauty, and maybe that’s why Darcy initially started falling for her. There was something about her, something that no one could touch. Something the violence and the danger and the fear couldn’t touch. Maybe it was because she was so strong, maybe it was because she was so fearless, but nothing seemed to cut into Natasha.

It was danger to be drawn into her, but she couldn’t stop it. Innocence was burning and burning and burning, with every step deeper into the world that Thor brought to her.

Things didn’t become inescapable until an attack on the tower. Darcy was trying to hide, trying to protect herself, lost in the midst of a full on skrull attack. Lasers were firing, the tower was burning, the Hulk was roaring, and she was trapped in her office, hiding under a desk and waiting for the final blow to come as the infiltrators came closer.

 _Please don’t let me die,_ she thought, praying to a god she’d never fully believed in.

The sound of gunfire pierced through her consciousness and she opened her eyes and raised her head to see the closest skrull fall.

She sat up, blinking away tears. The other two fell and there was a grinding sound as her desk was pushed aside.

Natasha. Her hand was held out, and Darcy took it and followed her through the chaos.

Later on, when the tower was being rebuilt and Darcy was working through her problems through the therapy councillor she’d insisted Tony pay for, Natasha approached her. It was a little frightening to see her again in normal clothes after all the fighting, to see her with a smile after knowing what sort of primal rage could glint in those beautiful green eyes.

“Hi,” said Darcy, closing her book.

“Come with me,” said Natasha, holding out her hand.

Darcy took it without question.

A short walk later found her in the training room. There was a gun before her on the table, two pairs of earmuffs. Several targets were strung up before her, hanging and waiting. Darcy was at once very nervous. “What’s this about?”

Natasha just smiled, leaning against the table. “I know how you felt there, powerless and under that table. I’m offering you a chance to take that back.”

Darcy watched her for a moment, then touched the gun tentatively. It was cool, the metal was a little oily. She swallowed. She’d never touched a gun before.

“You think this would do that?”

“I know our experiences differ,” said Natasha, touching Darcy’s hand, “but I know for a fact that once you remove certain factors out of the equation things become simpler.”

When Darcy nodded Natasha smiled again and started teaching her about the gun. The safety, the slide, the clip. How to take the clip out, how to take the bullet out of the chamber. Darcy repeated each motion until Natasha was satisfied she more or less had it. Darcy was feeling warm in the pit of her stomach every time Natasha touched her, asked her to repeat herself in that gentle voice that seemed so unlike the killing machine that had saved her.

“Now, suit up,” said Natasha, picking up a pair of safety glasses.

Earmuffs and glasses on, Darcy picked up the handgun, showed Natasha she knew how to load it. The clip slid into place with a snap, and she pulled back the slide. The sound of the round entering the chamber was ominous, and she shivered as Natasha touched her shoulder.

“Remember to aim at the target,” said Natasha. “And go slow.”

Swallowing hard, she raised the gun and pointed it at the nearest target. With a gentle hand Natasha corrected her stance, the way she angled the gun. Her breasts were against Darcy’s back and it was almost all she could concentrate on as Natasha put her face next to Darcy’s.

“Now, I want you to look along your arm, into the sight. Don’t squeeze too hard, but hold the gun firmly.” When Darcy nodded, Natasha put her hand on Darcy’s hip. “Okay. Look at the target. See where you want to shoot. Take a deep breath in,” Natasha’s hand was on Darcy’s stomach, now, and it followed her breath. “And as you breathe out, squeeze.”

The gun fired, Darcy’s hand came up from the recoil, and a small hole appeared in the target, near the heart.

Darcy laughed, her hand coming down, the other one shaking and her breath coming in little gasps. “That is…”

Natasha laughed with her. “Just relax. We’ve got a lot more to do.”

Darcy turned to look at her. Somehow their heights were almost the same, although she felt like sometimes she must be so much shorter than Natasha, that Natasha should be some sort of tall goddess.

“Thank-you, for taking the time to do this,” she said.

Natasha just shook her head. “It’s no problem. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

Natasha’s hand found Darcy’s free one. Their fingers entwined and squeezed a little.

The world might be dangerous and dark, but there were pinpricks of light available. 


	15. Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts, Jane Foster/Darcy Lewis

_And I can see the pain in you, and I can see the love in you, but fighting all the demons will take time_

– Angels or Demons, Dishwalla

Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts, Darcy Lewis/Jane Foster

In the new world survival skills were a must. People either survived by being smart, deadly, or just plain lucky. Natasha’s group could be broken up into that rather nicely. Jane Foster was smart, living carefully on the edge of things and devising ways to mask herself in the presence of Walkers. Darcy was blindly lucky _and_ smart, having seen every zombie flick known to man and reading most of the books she had managed to move on the fringe. Natasha, though, had a certain set of skills and the right equipment that she was all three, but especially deadly.

After she’d taken the two girls under her wing they’d begun to move steadily coastward and away from heavily populated areas. The Walkers seemed to stay concentrated on the cities so far, mostly they assumed because of military blockades, but they were finding more and more in the woods as time went on.

They were in the middle of a supply run into a pharmacy because Jane had an infection when the Walkers struck unexpectedly. The store was surrounded, they’d only come in with basic hand to hand weapons. Natasha cursed herself for becoming complacent and only bringing in her four shot sidearm, which was spent in a matter of seconds.

“We’re gonna die,” said Darcy, cracking her aluminum bat against the head of a Walker.

“We’re not going to die!” said Jane, swinging her favourite crowbar. “You need to think positive.”

“I can’t think positive when I’m about to have my face chewed off!”

Natasha stabbed one of them in the eye and pushed the body off. “You two can argue over this in bed later, alright? Just keep,” she grabbed another, fighting against its strength, and sheathed her blade in its temple, “fighting.” She pushed it off, wiped the blade on her pants. She really needed to invest in some good swords.

Jane was backing up towards the shelves of medicines. She cracked the crowbar against the head of another walker and turned to Natasha. “There has to be a back exit.”

“It’ll be surrounded by now,” said Natasha.

“Try up there!” Darcy was pointing up, and both of them followed her line of sight. Sure enough a small ladder started about halfway up a pole and to a roof exit. Natasha let out a sound of relief and moved onto another walker.

“You two, up there on the double! Use that chair, I’ll cover you!” There was a crack as the door came open in the back. “Hurry, hurry!”

Natasha didn’t have a lot of hope for herself, but she took Jane’s crowbar and started to crack heads, since it was faster and safer than using her knives. She wished for her machete as she smashed another head into bloody pulp. The only thing she wanted was to get that couple to safety, they deserved to keep each other. A friend was easier to lose than a lover, she was sure. Even though Nat had forgotten love and its taste, they still had it.

“NAT!” Jane was screaming, and Natasha looked up to see the two faces staring down at her.

There was a pull on her leg. A walker had tripped and was pawing at her jeans. She turned the crowbar and stabbed down through its skull, but the others were at the ladder, swarming, reaching.

_I’m going to die._

The idea came to her with a sort of calm that she could accept. She had a locket around her neck, her only reminder of before, of a time when love existed, and she touched it a moment. Natasha was just raising her knife to stab herself through the eye when there was a shotgun blast from the back. Blood exploded everywhere and Natasha ducked around a shelf to get away as another and another rang out, destroying heads and pieces of limbs.

A redheaded woman stepped through the shelves and shot the closest walker to Natasha. At short range the shot didn’t spread enough to do anything but liquefy the head and deafen Natasha. Ears ringing, she raised the crowbar, but a walker came down on her and pinned her to the floor.

The mysterious woman yelled, kicked with one heavy boot to the side of their head making the walker’s head crack once, then twice. Natasha met her blue eyes and swallowed hard, in awe of this woman’s strength.

“Get up, I’ve got a bike out back,” she said, then raised the shotgun to fire for another time.

Natasha scrambled up and followed her through the ruins of shelves and their abandoned spoils and outside. The woman shot another walker, emptying the gun. There was a large bike, a Suzuki, parked nearby and the woman shoved the shotgun into the holster.

“C’mon,” said the woman, and Natasha got on the bike behind her. “My friends-“

“They’re on the roof, they’ll be fine. Let’s go.” The bike roared to life with a twist of the throttle and she rocketed away as walkers began to close in. She was blasting the horn. “C’MON YOU BASTARDS!” the woman yelled as her hair whipped back. “MEALS ON WHEELS COMING THROUGH!”

Natasha laughed, closing her eyes. It was almost too much, to be alive and moving this fast. “What’s your name?” she shouted through the wind.

“Pepper!” said the woman, turning her head. “Pleased to meet you!”

There was a sound, like twigs crackling. Natasha woke up with the sounds of walkers fading from her dreams. She didn’t gasp awake, some ingrained instinct kept her waking up quietly to see the blue roof of the tent. She swallowed, reached her hand through the blankets, and found Pepper’s hand. It made her sigh with relief, a tension draining away from her chest.

Pepper’s fingers squeezed hers. She turned, rolling in the blankets, to smile at her. Natasha smiled back and breathed deep. Her scent was everywhere.

“Another day,” whispered Pepper, and Natasha snuggled closer and kissed her. “What were you dreaming of? Anything nice?”

“Yes and no,” said Natasha, remembering how vivid the nightmare was, and she tried to close the darkness away just like Pepper always did. It wasn’t always easy, or even possible, though, and she saw it reflected in Pepper’s eyes. “It was of the day we first met.”

“Awh,” said Pepper, and she kissed her again.

It hadn’t taken long for the two of them to fall in love, a few weeks at most of sharing a tent before they’d shared a bed. Darcy and Jane had been taking bets, of course.

They had duties. Cleaning, cooking, packing, travelling and foraging. But they could wait, as Natasha curled her fingers in Pepper’s long hair and they rolled together, kissing deeper.

There was a rustle outside of the tent and they both froze, but then Darcy’s voice cut through to their little sanctuary.

“Food’s on! Jane’s managed to make coffee!”

They both groaned at once, in need.

“Well if you’re having sex, don’t let me stop you. But I can’t promise I’ll save you a cup.”

Natasha wiggled and Pepper was off her in moments, pulling on pants. She looked murderous, and it made Natasha grin as she got up and got dressed, tucked her gun in her waistband and tied her hair back.

“She better save me a cup or Jane’s going to be down a girlfriend,” muttered Pepper, leaving the tent.

Natasha paused and touched her locket, sighed, and pulled on her boots.

Natasha just shook her head and followed her out, staring at their little world of grass and trees, wood smoke and food. A camping trip that would never end. Pepper turned and smiled, holding out a cup for her.

With an unconscious movement Natasha tucked the locket under her shirt and stepped forward.


	16. Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Russian came consulted from someone who speaks a little Russian, so if it's bad, I apologize to any Russian speakers

_No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart._

– Cosmic Love, Florence + Machine

Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanoff

Darcy had never realized how much darkness could be inside of a person until she’d begun to date Natasha. The thing that had started over a lesson on guns was growing and Darcy was shrinking in the face of what she didn’t know. She didn’t know how to combat the darkness, didn’t know what to say or do, or how to help. So she just stood, just clung to a spar of light when she was with her and tried to hold on.

Natasha’s hands were sometimes rough and sometimes gentle, they were moving mapping things. Her eyes took in everything – Darcy’s body, the surroundings, how to defend herself. Sometimes Darcy wondered if Natasha thought on how to kill her, just in case Darcy tried first.

“You’re my little stray cat,” Natasha would call her sometimes, and say something in Russian that sounded cute and started with a ‘k.’

“Why a stray?” Darcy asked once, closing her eyes as Natasha licked over her nipples, sucking one between her lips, and Darcy shuddered.

“Ya ne uveren, chto ya mogu imet' tebya u menya,” she replied, licking down further, teasing at Darcy’s navel.

“You know I don’t speak Russian, right?”

Natasha rested her chin on Darcy’s hip and gave her a pained smile, before licking down further, ceasing all further questions.

It continued for a while, sometimes on fancy dates and sometimes dancing, and sometimes just sitting while Darcy spoke and Natasha listened. She never asked again why she was a ‘stray cat’ and Natasha never offered an explanation. It just didn’t matter, until one day Natasha came home but she didn’t _come home._ She had a darkness in her eyes and when she touched Darcy her hands were rough and lacking everything they’d had before. There was pain there, pain Darcy couldn’t touch.

“What is it?” she asked, afraid, and Natasha stopped, stared at her for a heart breaking moment, and those green eyes closed off.

“I’m sorry, kosheczka,” she said, and rolled away.

“Nat-“

Natasha shook her head. “I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Nat, please –“ Darcy sat up in bed and scooted to the edge to touch her, but Natasha stood before she could, leaving her to close her hand in mid-air. “What’s going to happen to us?”

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

Darcy watched her walk out the door. She tried to sleep, tried to work around everything in her head, but it wasn’t happening so she got up to find the kitchen. What she found was Clint with a can of pop devouring a bowl of leftovers.

“Hi, Darce,” he said.

“Hey,” she started making herself a coffee at the machine. If you can’t go to sleep, why fight it? He didn’t ask why she was up, which was nice, but after a few minutes she had a question for him.

“Do you speak Russian?”

Clint nodded. “Yup. Easy.”

“Right.” Darcy finished stirring her coffee and took a sip. “This is going to sound weird, but what does ‘yawne oven, cheetah mogimat tebby ewe meny’ mean?”

Clint snorted. “Ah, well, that’s rough,” he said.

“Shut it. Can you guess?” She was desperate to know this part, because she had a feeling it meant a lot to the future of hers and Nat’s relationship.

Clint muttered a moment, scratched his head. Then he frowned. “Best I can guess – and this is real guessing – is ‘I’m not sure I can have you with me.”

Darcy frowned, her lip trembled. “Thanks,” she said, shaky.

“Oh, hey. No. Aw. What is it?” He stood. “Did Nat say that?”

“I’m her stray cat,” said Darcy, covering her face.

Clint was silent a moment. “I’m sorry, Darce.”

“Whatever,” she said, walking away before he could offer an awkward hug.

She was most of the way back to her room when Natasha found her. She had a look on like she knew what was up. Darcy swallowed. “Stray cat, saying hello.”

Natasha bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

Darcy stared at her a moment. “Do you want me?”

“Of course, I just –“

“You’re just not sure you can keep me.”

Natasha nodded after a moment.

“Well that’s partly my decision, I think,” said Darcy softly. “I understand you can’t let me in, but at least let me sit in the yard. Don’t push me all the way out the gate.”

Natasha clenched her fists a moment, then stepped in close and hugged her. “I’m trying. It’s just hard… with a civilian.”

“Tell me about it,” said Darcy. She shivered, she hadn’t gotten dressed properly.

Natasha rubbed her back. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice soft. “Let’s get you warm. Kittens shouldn’t be out in the cold.”

Darcy, for a moment, thought about saying no, but how could she? She needed to have her close in the dark.


	17. Jane Foster/Darcy Lewis

_Hot summer nights, mid-July, when you and I were forever wild_

– Young and Beautiful, Lana Del Ray

Darcy Lewis/Jane Foster

The death of the air conditioner was probably the worst part of the summer. Jane didn’t believe anyone who said the desert was cold at night. Cold relative to the day, maybe, but for a girl who’d spent a good piece of her childhood in the misty wet Great Britain and the rest in the northern states it was always hot, all the time.

Darcy, though, didn’t seem to mind at first. She’d taken to wearing only boy shorts and a bra in the motorhome. She’d sit on their small couch tapping her fingers in the air in time to whatever music she was listening to. Jane wasn’t up on most music, so Darcy took to teaching her the indie bands that Darcy loved so much, and didn’t stop until Jane could sing along with the Decemberists and Interpol.

“Stop being so modest here, Jane,” said Darcy, watching Jane sweat wearing long pants and a T-shirt. “It’s just me.”

Jane smiled and shook her head, blushing a little because she _wanted_ to be so close to Darcy wearing so little, but was afraid of her own feelings.

Their first kiss happened eventually, when temperatures in the steel trap they were living in reached critical mass and each window was open to tempt a breeze she finally peeled off her T-shirt, kicked out of her Harvard sweats and Darcy cheered appreciatively.

Jane did a twirl. “You like?”

“Love. You’ve even got the matching underwear. Sexy, Jane. Never took you for low riders.”

Jane sat down next to Darcy, who unplugged her headphones and started playing some kind of pop. Jane tapped in time and Darcy sang. She had a pretty voice.

Jane was just getting used to the heat, a little breeze starting to ruffle their hair, when Darcy leaned into her. Her body was hot and slick and the feeling was so _alive_ it made her shiver.

“If I were to kiss you, what would you do?” asked Darcy.

“Are we talking hypotheticals or what?” asked Jane, starting to blush.

“Hypothetically I kiss you. What do you do?”

Jane swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know.”

Darcy looked thoughtful. “So can I then?”

After a moment Jane nodded, and Darcy leaned in. Her lips were so full and her hands so soft that Jane could easily get lost, and did with soft moans and pressing tongues.

The story of their first kiss was also the story of their first night together, when Jane found herself wet with need and Darcy kissing down her torso to her thighs, pressing hot kisses until she was running her tongue along her underwear, getting it even wetter and darker.

It was wild and sudden and everything Jane wasn’t used to when it came to sex. They curled together in her bunk and they giggled when Darcy hit her head or when Jane rolled a little too far. Tongues and lips pressed against sweaty skin, tasting everywhere and when Jane came she felt like she was coming undone, heart pounding in her chest and eager to return pleasure to the girl she was falling in love with.


	18. Jessica Drew/Kate Bishop

_‘Cause I don’t know where you’re going, but do you have room for one more troubled soul?_

– Alone Together, Fall Out Boy

Kate Bishop/Jessica Drew

The car was hot, even with the windows rolled down. Jessica looked out the window and watched the world drive by as she leaned back in her seat and tried to forget herself just like every other time. Her hand was on the center console but Kate never took it, she always drove with both hands on the wheel like it might turn into a car chase at any time – and with their lives, it just might.

She was wearing cut-off jeans and a white tank top, which was clinging to her like a second skin. The leather of the car seat just clung to her, but she didn’t mind because the breeze was rippling her hair and the scent was making her drift away into her own mind.

She reached out and touched Kate’s thigh. Kate didn’t say anything, which was fine. They rarely spoke like this, when they both needed to get away and the only good thing they had was the highway.

She squeezed. Kate shivered, didn’t say anything yet though as the sun set and the night began.

There was the click and tick-tock of the signal light as they got on a ramp towards the coast. Jessica said nothing, and when the car finally parked they both sat their silently, staring at the inky black waves without speaking.

It was like a switch was flipped and they were outside. Kate left her sandals behind, then Jessica dropped her shorts. Next came shirts, bra’s, panties. The ocean was cold and the sand was soft. Salt water sprayed on their lips as they walked out further until the current pushed and pulled and their hair was soaked.

She kissed Kate then, pushed her knee between Kate’s legs. Kate just hummed. She tasted like cherry candy and salt and smelled so good it almost made Jessica’s heart break.

Sandy and wet and needy they fell into the surf and were pushed by the tide and they rolled in the sand, not caring. Kate had a blanket in the trunk and eventually they would run naked back to the car laughing and finally talking about showers and how good it would feel to get the sand out, which was _everywhere,_ but now was for figuring out where they were and why they were there.


	19. Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

_And now I need to know is this real love, or is it just madness keeping us afloat?_

_–_ Madness, Muse

Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

No matter how much she saw or thought she saw, Lydia held herself together. She would take the pieces that fell and press them back. She would hold her head high, she would move on. She would find more love, sex for the sake of pleasure, she would delve into her studies, she would move, evolve, continue. It was only with Allison she was never sure, was always on shaky ground until it was shivering and twisting and she was falling too far and too deep to grasp for the surface.

She’d curl her fingers in Allison’s hair in a deep kiss one day and fight with her the next over what was happening to them. They’d cling to each other, somewhere between terrified and calm, hysterics threatening to burst over their lips but they never did. Tears would pour and they would kiss and wish they were just normal teenagers once more, without the craziness of monster stories stalking after them one by one like out of some cheesy teen horror flick.

Lydia kissed the crying of some new and terrifying dream from Allison’s lips. Allison pushed back the healing scream and replaced it with moans.

“Are we in love?” Allison asked once, when she was spent and laying in Lydia’s arms.

“I don’t know,” said Lydia, who hated admitting that. “Are we?”

“I don’t know either.”

Lydia hoped she was in love. She hoped that there could be something after Jackson, even if it couldn’t be simple, even if it had to keep being complicated.

“Do we want to be in love?” she asked when they were eating lunch outside, watching a group of boys be idiots in the courtyard.

“I think so,” said Allison.

Lydia supposed this was when they decided to be in love, and things got so much easier. The dreams didn’t go away, the visions didn’t stop, and the screaming didn’t stop. The fear and the hysterics and the constant wondering when someone was going to die didn’t stop. But they got easier, they touched easier, they made love easier. The pieces fit back into Lydia’s form and Allison was able to smile with tears of joy in her eyes as well as tears of pain.

“I love you,” said Allison one night.

“I love you too,” said Lydia, her voice barely a whisper as they curled up in Allison’s bed and touched and pretended the world was normal outside the bedroom.


	20. Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

_So, collect your scars and wear ‘em well, your blood’s a good an ink as any, go scratch your name in the clouds_

_–_ The Crooked Kind, Radical Face

Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

The candle wax made a blood red drip and Natasha pressed her finger into it, felt the sting as she wiped it, and watched it solidify under the nail. Red, blood red, and impossible to get out.

She lay on a chaise lounge, naked. She watched the fire flicker and flare and tilted her head. The light caught the red of her hair and turned the curls to fire.

Pepper came into the room wearing nothing as well and looking comfortable in her nakedness despite the wall height windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline. Natasha rolled back to watch her, to stare at her flawless skin and the way her muscles flexed and moved beneath it. She imagined she could feel her pulse, the flow of blood and proof of life.

Scars might have flowed over that skin, but Natasha had seen the glow and flicker of real fire inside of Pepper and knew it erased everything from a childhood accident to the cuts and scrapes of losing the Malibu mansion.

Natasha stood up, her breasts hanging heavy, hand over her stomach to hide the entry wound of a bullet. She was laced with her own map of life and death and pain, and Pepper was as clean and pure as an angel. Hips swaying she walked up behind her, pushed her hair out of the way of her neck, and began to kiss her as her arms enfolded her.

Pepper stared at their reflection and smiled, and after a moment Natasha stared too, at the bizarre way their skin sparkled with the pinpricks of millions of lights from Manhattan below them.

“You’re so perfect,” said Natasha, closing her eyes, nosing against Pepper’s shoulder. “Magnificent.”

“Like you,” said Pepper, but Natasha shook her head.

“No. You are art, like a clear canvas,” Natasha began to kiss her more, to stroke, to explore. “A clear canvas, smooth and ready for painting, for touching. Pristine.”

Pepper gasped as Natasha kissed lower, worshiped her lower back and buttocks, stroked at her legs. Her hand found Natasha’s hair.

“But you’re beautiful too,” said Pepper, turning and kneeling so she was between Natasha’s legs, hands on either side of her hips. “You are a work of art, of spinning time. From childhood,” she kissed Natasha’s ankle, “to now,” she kissed the freshest scar on Natasha’s left arm, a knife wound, “you are evolving and growing more and more beautiful with each second beating through you.”

Natasha shook her head and Pepper kissed her, like she was trying to take the doubt from her lips. She gave herself to her, her perfect goddess, fingers tangled in hair and lips seeking.


	21. Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

_It’s not my fault, I’m happy, don’t call me crazy, I’m happy_

_–_ It’s Not My Fault I’m Happy, Passion Pit

Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

Daemon AU

Allison was starting to realize that homework was a lot harder to do when your daemon decided to play ‘touchy feely’ with someone else’s. Her fingers were tingling and it was hard to hold her pencil and just focus on math when her daemon was currently bathing Lydia’s. It was sort of cute, to see one of Lyric’s big paws over Danel’s back and watching their rough tongue slide between Danel’s cute round ears.

Lydia’s hand was shaking and she had to put down her calculator. Allison gave her a side long smile, and Danel’s tail just flicked and his eyes were shut in pleasure.

“You two are making this math homework impossible,” complained Lydia, but Lyric didn’t stop. They were purring in that rough, old engine rumble that they had.

Allison tossed down her pencil and got up, shifting over to the bed where Lydia was lying next to the two daemons.  Homework forgotten, she began to comb her fingers through Lydia’s hair, which made Danel’s tail thump twice and caused him to chitter his little teeth, and made Lyric’s purr get even louder.

“For a cat and a rat you two are entirely too friendly,” complained Lydia.

Allison chuckled in her ear, alongside their daemons. “I’m pretty sure Danel hardly classifies as a rat. He’s much too big and pretty to be a common rat.”

Danel chittered again, deigning to talk while he was getting tongue bathed.

“Even so,” said Lydia, leaning back into Allison’s clever hands.

It was actions like these that filled Allison’s heart with warmth. To feel Lyric’s contentment mingling with the love she had for Lydia made Allison want to lean back and cuddle all of them in a pile of fur and happiness.

Lyric nuzzled Danel and Allison copied the action to Lydia’s neck. She pulled back Lydia’s hair and kissed her gently on the ear. Lydia shivered at the same moment as Danel. The moments had perfect symmetry, and Allison couldn’t resist another small kiss to Lydia’s lips. Lydia smiled, their fingers entwined.

Lydia flopped back amongst the pillows and Allison smiled down at her, squeezed her hand.

“What?” Lydia demanded, eyebrow raised.

“Just you,” she said, and kissed her again as she curled around Lydia, holding Lydia against her chest and kissing the back of her head, and silently planning on rewarding Lyric for their good thinking.


	22. Inara Serra/Kaylee Frye

_In the meadow of sinful thoughts, every flower’s a perfect one_

– She Is My Sin, Nightwish

Inara Serra/Kaylee Frye

She was spread out on the bed, hair tangled across the pillow and completely naked. Inara gently massaged her legs, from foot to thigh, and watched with a smile as Kaylee writhed under her gentle ministrations. Inara loved this, watching Kaylee fall apart inch by inch.

She only accepted the most exceptional women to her bed, and easily those aboard the Serenity were those. Zoe had fire, and Kaylee had sweetness, and if it wasn’t for Wash she might consider having both with her at once for an afternoon of relaxing, drinking tea, and touching, being women together as they could not in the presence of men.

Still, though, she had Kaylee. She applied a little more of the homemade oil to her skin and watched it shimmer with a golden glow as she worked her way higher.

“Gosh, Inara, that feels real nice,” said Kaylee, her voice little more than a hum.

“I’m glad you think so. Your skin is so perfect.”

“Hard to believe ain’t it?”

“Just with all the work you do in the engine room, is all,” she said.

When Inara’s hand grew high on Kaylee’s thighs she switched tactics, not missing the softest sound of need Kaylee made as she began to massage her hands and arms. Inara wanted Kaylee to be completely relaxed and at ease, though, should things go further.

It had been like this between them for some time. Kaylee would come to her when she needed comfort and Inara, occasionally, to Kaylee. They both had hearts that yearned for others but that didn’t stop them in coming together to take something in the pleasure of the other.

Inara was massaging Kaylee’s neck when Kaylee reached up to play with her hair, a relaxed and tired look in her eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” she said. “Will you kiss me now?”

Inara smiled softly, ran her finger over Kaylee’s lower lip, and nodded, leaning in. The kiss was gentle and sweet and the two of them rolled together until Kaylee was laying on top of Inara.

Kaylee pulled away and smiled at her, making Inara’s heart ache just a little.

Maybe it would end someday, because everything ended and it would have to if they got what their hearts desired. But that day hadn’t come, not yet.


	23. Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

_My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out, the saints can’t help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallow’d ground_

_–_ Howl, Florence and the Machine

Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

Canon Divergence AU

It wasn’t true, to kill the Alpha which bit you to free yourself from the curse. Allison found that out the hard way, when she was nursing a bite on her arm and her eyes were glowing red, arrows still dripping with blood.

The full moon struck a few days later, causing her to flee. She fought to find her anchor, to hide this from her father, even as fur started growing from her arms and her clothes began to tear. She lifted back her head and howled, wishing to beg the world for safety and finding only this pain and fear and blood thirst raging in from her chest.

Claws scratched the ground, fangs bared, red eyes glowing, Allison found herself raging at the world. It was only her Hunter’s side that forced her away to find her anchor.

She ran through the night, a wolf. She was going to the scream that was always bubbling beneath the surface, the wide brown eyes and flowing hair and voice that was like a safe haven.

Shifting, moving, jumping, eyes red and secret held tight to her heart she found her way to Lydia’s room, to her home. The bedroom was empty but the window was open and the screen clattered as it hit the carpet. She woofed, searched, couldn’t find what she needed as the blood sang in her veins needing her to hunt and kill and be wild.

What she found, though, was a closet full of Lydia’s scent, a pile of laundry with which to snuffle and hide. Lydia was coming up the stairs, she could hear her, but Allison had already hid away, a bra over one ear, nuzzling a shirt with her muzzle. She let out a dog-like sound and when Lydia came into her room, eyes wide with fear, Allison merely woofed.

“Who – who are you?” Lydia asked, the door shutting, her small frame shrinking against the door. “What do you want?”

Allison’s tail thumped and she crawled from the closet and walked across the carpet to find her, to sit and to stare, to be good. She felt her rage subsiding in the presence of Lydia and she lay down on the floor and rolled, exposing her belly, tail tucked between her legs. Her eyes might be red, she might be an alpha, but she was still Allison and still craved love.

“No, but… who are you?” asked Lydia, kneeling. “I know you, but…” She swallowed. “Scott?”

Allison shook her head and wiggled again, dropping her tail.

Lydia blinked. “You’re a girl… wait. _Allison?_ ”

She rolled to her paws and licked Lydia’s face and nuzzled her, tail wagging fast, before jumping on her bed and rolling like a dog.

“I have a lot of questions, but they’ll have to wait until you have a mouth,” said Lydia, climbing onto the bed with her.

She leaned into Allison’s side and the two of them closed their eyes, mussed up in the sheets with the full moon shining in. Lydia’s heartbeat was a song, that soothed and pulled the tide away.


	24. Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

_But I meant every word I said, from deranged to divine, and I would do it all again, as if for the first time_

_–_ Do You, Carina Round

Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

Fairy Tale AU

All of it was easy. Breaking in, slipping out. The legendary Natasha Romanoff could do it all, by changing her face or moving shadow to shadow throughout the bowls of some lords castle. She would slip into a treasure room, pick a few baubles and move on. She wasn’t greedy, she was choosy. Only the choicest things would go into her pouches. A ruby here, a sapphire necklace there.

That day, though, she was sloppy. She’d seen a maiden at the window, with long red hair with the face of an angel. Her thoughts were more on that beautiful woman than on her task, and at a pivotal movement she dropped something that crashed and banged.

Two guards were knocked out within moments but more were coming, more than she might deal with. Natasha had the strength and speed of a warrior in full prime, but she could do little against arrows or many swords.

Natasha ran through the corridor, intending to duck into a closet or chamber and wait for the enemy to pass, but the door she selected opened into the chamber of the princess.

“Father, I hope that’s not you who crashes into my room,” called the voice, so temptingly sweet.

Natasha reached behind her, turned the lock, and stepped forward. “It isn’t.”

The princess came into the ante chamber, robed in silk, bare of throat with her hair hanging down in a long and gorgeous wave. Natasha usually didn’t find herself lured by the beauty of another but this one did.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she demanded, side stepping and drawing a sword from a rack.

Natasha merely bowed and lowered her hood. “Merely a vagabond looking for an exit,” she said.

“Indeed. And quite probably a thief into the bargain,” said the princess. “Your name, or I’ll slay you.”

“You could try, and I would be sad, for I do not wish to harm you but I will if I must,” said Natasha. “My name is the Black Widow.”

“The thief? The assassin?” she raised her sword higher.

“Merely a thief, m’lady. I’ve come with no intentions to slay anyone this night. Merely to find money with which to pass the night in warmth, with food to fill my belly.”

“And you’d steal from my father to do so.”

“I’d steal from many to keep myself alive. It is a harsh world, especially with winter pressing against these stone walls.”

There was a rattle on the door and Natasha dropped to her knee, glancing back. She knew that this was a moment that could prove either her death or prove her escape. It was most likely the former rather than the latter, unless this princess had a heart that could be worked with. Natasha, for some unknown reason, loathed working against her, hurting her, but she must do what she must do to keep fed, to keep alive.

“Please, m’lady. They mean my death. Would you have me killed?”

At first she was certain, with the way the Princess held her sword high and ready, that death was to come by either her hands or by the guards who banged at the door, demanding entrance. But then the lady put the sword away and pointed imperiously to a small alcove. “You, wait there.”

Natasha wasted no time in hiding within it, listening as the Princess opened the door and demanded why she was woken by an entire infantry so late in the night. It wasn’t long before the guards were on their way and Natasha could breathe a sigh of relief.

“Out, Black Widow. Your real name.”

Natasha crept from her spot and stood up straight. She pulled down her hood, shaking out her own red hair, and smiled at the Princess who, she hoped, seemed taken with her own beauty. “My names are many. Natalia Romanova is one, but right now I go by Natasha. Might I know your name?”

The Princess clutched her robes a little tight, watching, looking suspicious. She swallowed, then nodded. “My name is Virginia, but I detest that name. I go by Pepper.”

“Pepper,” said Natasha, enchanted by it. She stepped forward, hands empty and open. “And I suppose you’d demand me return what I stole, in exchange for free passage?”

“I would,” said Pepper.

Natasha smiled, opened a pouch, and produced the sapphire necklace. It was an intricate filigree with sapphires set amongst it glittering like an ocean at first light, still stormy and unsettled from the day. She raised it so it caught the light of the torch and Pepper watched it, her eyes gazing over it like it was entirely unfamiliar for her.

“I will return it,” said Natasha, “if you’d permit me to clasp it about your beautiful throat.”

“That’s hardly appropriate.”

“Maybe so. But you’ve captured my heart and are having me return what I stole, you still my hand from causing you pain. You’re lovely, Princess, and not many people might brag that they stopped the Black Widow from her prize.”

“Have I?” asked Pepper, and the blush on her cheeks was the colour of pale rose petals against the cream of her skin.

“From this part of it,” said Natasha. She moved in, and Pepper held still for her. Gently, with skilled fingers, Natasha brushed back her hair and did the clasp. The necklace hung from Pepper’s throat, heavy over her chest and above her breasts.

Natasha shifted to stand before her. “For this prize I’d trade for another,” she said.

Pepper was still blushing. “And that would be?”

“A kiss, m’lady, to start,” said Natasha.

“And to end?”

“That one night I might return, and that you would be mine. That I would kiss you and show you a pleasure no man might visit upon you.”

“That is bold.”

“It is also truth.”

Pepper looked unsure a moment, then she smiled. “Take your kiss, Natasha. I’d think on the second.”

Natasha smiled and leaned in. The kiss was soft and gentle, and everything a Princess could offer a thief, but Natasha reached up and took her delicate chin in gloved hands, parted her lips and gently stroked her tongue with her own. Pepper made a sound, a gasp of need, and when Natasha pulled away she knew that the letters of love she now planned on sending would be well received, would light a fire in this Princess’s stomach.

“That was very bold,” said Pepper.

“Yet it sparks love. I’ll be on my way now, my Lady. But I’d return one day.”

“I pray you do,” said Pepper, as Natasha turned the lock on the door.

“You’ve my word.”

“Is it good?”

“To one such as you, forever it will be,” said Natasha, slipping away and leaving her Lady behind. She’d return, and soon, not for jewels but for an unexpected love.


	25. Jane Foster/Darcy Lewis

_I’m ready to start the conquest of spaces, reaching the starlight and silver fields, come with the night of science fighting the forces of gravity_

– Conquest of Spaces, Woodkid

Jane Foster/Darcy Lewis

Space AU

Their hands met while they floated. Darcy’s eyes met Jane’s. Someone was yelling for the other to just _hold on,_ but she wasn’t sure who. It could have been her, it could have Jane. They were floating, floating amongst a million stars while the temperature fluctuated. Solar winds buffeted them in a twilight of colours and Darcy squeezed her hands tighter, drawing her in. They were dancing on the rocks of Saturn’s rings, they were turning, turning, turning in the face of a purple gas giant.

There was a sound and Darcy opened her eyes. In the darkness she realized she was alone and sat up, climbing out of bed and getting dressed. The small room was lit by a single nightlight, glaringly bright for such a tiny thing, but Darcy knew it could be blamed on her own pupils that opened too wide for her own good.

She left the room, feet in her boots, clothes loose around her, and started prowling through the ship.

Ever since they’d joined the crew things had been weird. Darcy had never imagined herself on anything but her simple colony, but then Jane had come into her life and swept her away on a science research facility and now they flew on the _Avenger._

She stopped a moment in the cockpit. Clint Barton was watching the screen while Bucky Barnes slept in the chair next to him.

“Did you fuck him into sleep?” asked Darcy, looking at the disheveled appearance of Bucky’s clothes.

Clint just smirked. “I can’t help it if I have that effect on him. What are you doing up?”

“Seen Jane?”

“Ah,” said Clint. “Try the observation deck. We’re flying near the Fornax Cluster.”

Darcy turned and left, leaving the two of them. The observation deck was at the top of the ship and Darcy had to climb a small ladder to reach it. It was a little bubble, just tall enough for someone to stand, and the walls would go transparent for you to look.

She found Jane standing, staring at the swirling galaxies above them. It was breath taking, and impossibly far. Darcy was never one for astrophysics, but something about the way Jane was so swept up with them had caught her and scooped her up into Jane’s world like a whirlwind.

Jane turned to look at her. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Why aren’t you?” asked Darcy, admiring the way her face looked in the starlight and the way her hair hung beautiful and heavy down her back.

Jane smiled. “Sorry. Opportunity was too good. Look,” she said, and she was about to launch on a lecture when Darcy turned her head and kissed her, took the words from her. Jane gasped and blushed.

“What was that for?”

“Just because sometimes a girl wants to enjoy a sight with her girlfriend rather than having it broken down to atoms,” said Darcy.

She sat down on the cold steel floor and pat the spot next to her. After a flustered looking moment Jane sat down with her.

“But I like explaining things to you,” said Jane. “You listen, you like it, you-“

Darcy shushed her with one finger, then laid back. She pulled Jane with her. It was uncomfortable, but it would do. “Explain after,” she said, and kissed Jane, “because I’m too in love with you to do anything but make love to you right here and now underneath of the Fullmax Cluster right now.”

“Fornax,” said Jane, and she grinned.

Darcy shrugged. “Well, I tried,” she said, and kissed her again.


	26. Kate Bishop/Jessica Drew

_We’ve all got our own pollution, it’s all about the execution_

_–_ Strut, Adam Lambert

Kate Bishop/Jessica Drew

Her card said twenty-one but she was really there for her eighteenth birthday. She was out with Chavez and the rest of the crew but she was looking for something different. Kate ignored the looks she was getting from Tommy knowing he was a fall back. Kate was hunting for something in particular, with her short purple dress and hair brushed back.

She found it when she was nursing her second drink, eyes still sweeping the club. There was a girl who was dancing wild wearing a painted on black number and hair swaying, golden hoop earrings glittering. Kate wondered if she’d found her.

With a quick gulp she finished her drink.

Body moving to the beat that pushed and pulled the crowd, the song that caused the beauty before her to rock her hips and toss her hair, she made her way through the tightly packed bodies until she was next to her. Up close she was even prettier with red painted lips and dusky eye shadow. She imagined the dark red nails sliding down her skin and Kate wanted very much to get to know this girl.

“Hey,” she said, slipping closer as the music waxed between beats.

The woman opened her eyes, roamed over Kate’s body. “Hey yourself,” she said.

Kate stepped in close, hips moving in time with every one of this woman’s moves. Without prompting the woman put her hands on Kate’s hips and they started moving, grinding, becoming extensions of each other though the music. Kate didn’t know her name, just that her hair was black and when the lights were right that her eyes could be brown. Maybe one day she’d know her but just then they were two people with masks off and painted on, seeking hands as they got even closer, the music raising and the sweat trickling down the small of their backs.

Kate wasn’t sure who kissed who first, just that she tasted whatever fruity drink the woman had had on her tongue. It was hot and it was fast, there was hair pulling and lip biting. Their breath was hot between them as a few people cheered and the rest ignored them, lost in their own little universe.

A groped breast, a tweaked nipple. Hands on hips, sliding down, exploring, palms so hot they burned.

The music was so loud it was almost defening, Kate’s head was light. She let the woman take control. She never ceded it but there was experience here, there was a control and Kate wanted to feel that on her body from head to toes.

“You want to ditch this place?” asked the woman.

“Sure. Name’s Kate.”

“Jess,” said the woman. “Let’s go.


	27. Melinda May/Natasha Romanoff

_Once again, you hurry up and wait for, painful pleasures, always ending_

_–_ Square Circles, Moon Taxi ft. Matisyahu

Natasha Romanoff/Melinda May

Sparring was always a sort of sweet, painful pleasure. Natasha loved it, the grab, the twist, the slam of skin onto mats, the taste of blood when you bit your cheek or the feel of sweat trickling down your neck.

Melinda had been her SHIELD handler when she’d first joined, before Coulson had thought about taking the job. Clint had brought her in but Melinda showed her the ropes, the ones Natasha had needed to hold her back from her more dangerous dark side.

Natasha tried to pin her but Melinda was out of her arms and rolling. Natasha grinned, part with amusement, part feral, with a lot of teeth. Melinda returned the gesture.

Melinda had shown her how to act, had been with her throughout every second of her deprogramming. She’d held her when she cried her heart out for a family she’d never truly known, had held her down while she screamed and tried to get away.

Melinda aimed a kick that Natasha caught and deflected. Her arm was stinging but she didn’t care. She yelled, attacking.

Natasha had been the first person to initiate, kissing her on a sparring mat just like this one. Melinda had tried to pull away but Natasha had been so starved for affection it hadn’t lasted long and Melinda was rolling her on her back, pinning her wrists.

Melinda tripped Natasha, knocking her to the mat. “You can do better than that,” she said. “You’re holding back.”

“Just for you.”

She’d quivered and moaned as Melinda had licked lower, pushed up her top, tasted her skin. There on the mat that first time Melinda had taken her and made her come, a release that Natasha couldn’t remember feeling in her life before that moment.

Melinda lunged and Natasha rolled to her feet, caught Melinda by the shoulders with her thighs and rolled until she was pinning the other woman down.

They both were breathing hard, met each other’s eyes. Natasha’s heart was beating fast and her hands were aching to touch and feel.

Melinda had been removed as her handler a week later when she’d reported their relationship to Fury. Coulson stepped in as Natasha’s handler, things had gone smooth.

She still wanted Melinda, though. With every moment and breath.

 “I yield,” she said.

“Good,” Natasha replied, and kissed her.


	28. Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

_When you feel my heat, look into my eyes, it’s where my demons hide. Don’t get too close, it’s dark inside, it’s where my demons hide._

_–_ Demons, Imagine Dragons

Natasha Romanoff/Pepper Potts

Sometimes things were red and gold and perfect. They touched, they kissed, they rolled together. There were smiles and there was laughter. Pepper had never imagined to be with a woman like this, Natasha had only smiled when Pepper had posed her the same question.

Falling into bed was easy. It was getting out and the rest of it that could be hard.

It was a shadow that hid in Natasha’s eyes that no amount of kissing and touching could banish completely. A creeping shadow, a watching shadow. A shadow that observed and learned and grew bigger and bigger on the information on the people around her.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” said Natasha.

It wasn’t the point sometimes, though, when that little shadow made those green eyes seem so deep. Because she might not hurt her, but she could and she knew how and that would never go away.

Pepper tried to ignore it though, as much as Natasha never spoke about that angry little being that lived inside her. Pepper tried to soothe it, to satisfy, but nothing worked. It merely smouldered. Like a fire it grew when fed with a mission and shrank when faced with nothing but healing, blessed time.

Pepper liked to believe she had an effect on it, but she was never sure.

One day after a mission Natasha kept her eyes closed during sex. Pepper was worried it was nearing the end, that she wanted someone else, but Natasha merely shook her head.

“I won’t hurt you. You don’t need to see what’s inside me right now.”

Pepper merely kissed her. “I love all of you.”

“Not this.”

“Even this,” said Pepper. “Because without it you wouldn’t be you.”

Natasha didn’t say _I love you back,_ just promised again not to hurt her, and opened her eyes. The shadow was there but her expression was hopeful and her kisses were desperate and needy, hands seeking and grasping for comfort in a way almost childlike with need.


End file.
